


Arising From The Want Of

by abriata



Series: Day Grows Slowly [3]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Day Grows Slowly and Without Color Or Sound. It's time to venture onto Adam's turf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arising From The Want Of

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [kink_bingo](http://abriata.livejournal.com/16080.html#cutid1)square. Looked over by [](http://lady-amorika.livejournal.com/profile)[ **lady_amorika**](http://lady-amorika.livejournal.com/).

It seems only fair, in the end, since Adam's been to Kris' home, that Kris returns the favor. Then Adam says, "Well, not my _home_ , exactly, more like my _habitat_ ," and Kris balks, making vague protests that if it's not Adam's childhood home it's not a fair trade.

"Besides," Kris says, "You asked!"

"You were going to ask," Adam says.

"No," Kris says, but Adam isn't listening to him anymore.

The thing is, Kris really _doesn't_ want to go. It's enough to hear Adam describe the clubs and warehouses where people like them can go; a different world from anything Kris is used to. It always sounds amazing, but so does the pyramids of Giza and Kris still doesn't want to go to Egypt.

The other thing is: Adam's right. Fair's fair, and Kris can sort of hear his conscience telling him such irritating things as _you owe it to him_ and _think of this as a learning experience_ , which is likely the worst phrase in the world. Learning experiences always suck.

So on the designated evening Kris gets dressed and while he waits for Adam he leaves a fatalistic farewell message on his mom's answering machine, which might have been more effective if it hadn't been occasionally interrupted by Adam's hollering whether he's seen this-or-that.

Then Adam steals the phone and drops it haphazardly on the base and says, "You're going in _that_? You're not going in that," and shoves Kris up to change. Kris comes back down five minutes later in the exact same clothes and Adam makes a face and Kris makes noises back. Kris wins the argument, which is awesome.

Adam pulls them into a cab and then down enough dark alleys that Kris is not only certain they're completely lost but also that they're going to be murdered and floating in the ocean somewhere by dawn. They stop in front of a group of gang members – Kris feels pretty safe classifying them as such, since they've got the same clothes on and matching metallic tattoos across the little skin Kris can see. Then Adam says, "Excuse us," and the one in front says, "Sorry, invitation only," and Kris realizes the marks aren't tattoos, they're _scales_.

Adam says, "We're allowed," politely, and unfurls his wings. The guys look at Kris expectantly and Kris gets why Adam barely wore a shirt; he has to shrug out of two layers, and he feels ridiculous and horribly scared, showing his wings to strangers on the street. They nod at him perfunctorily, since Adam's already dragging him past anyway.

Inside's pretty much a normal club, until the people get close. Adam laughs at him and Kris knows he's staring, but he's never seen so many, and so carefree about it. He moves to put his shirt back on but Adam shakes his head, pulls Kris to an empty spot of wall. "You have to let people see your wings. That's the whole point of places like this."

Kris shifts uncomfortably but he doesn't have time to pester Adam with questions or beg him to leave; people are already coming up to them, talking to Adam and looking at Kris curiously. Each time, Adam introduces him and the girls and boys all say hello, gesturing at their non-human traits like a trophy. One boy waves and his tail moves in counterpoint, bobbing agreement. Kris almost smiles, still tense, and waves back, trying to dip his wing in a parody of the movement.

A couple of people nearby laugh and Adam smiles like Kris has done something stupid and cute. It pisses Kris off disproportionately and he scowls at the next woman who comes over. She ignores him completely and tugs at Adam's arm plaintively, and Adam asks, "You'll be okay for a while?" and goes off with her before Kris can express just how badly he won't be. He waits, but he has to duck away from a flailing couple that slams into the wall next to him, so he decides to go look for a drink.

It's an adventure, trying to find the bar. He can't even see, much less navigate, so he wanders through a press of bodies, flinching away when fur and feathers and scales brush against him. He thinks they're accidents until someone's tail curls around his wrist, stunning him into stillness, and he carefully watches the redheaded girl that comes attached to it.

She's smiling playfully, like a come on, and Kris stutters out something about his boyfriend at the bar and tries to escape. She nods understandingly, no hard feelings, and lets him go with a long, intimate stroke down his wings.

Kris jerks forward in shock and stumbles into another man's wings, thin and delicate and smooth. Kris thinks they might be bat and mutters an apology as he dodges past, thinking hopefully of Adam's wings, soft and familiar as his own.

It seems like everywhere he turns now someone's touching him. It's not just his wings, though that's the worst; it's his chest, his wrists and his cheeks and his hair. He can't get away from it and he wants to go home, at least wants to put his shirt and jacket on for defense and distance, but he doesn't want to get kicked out and have no way of finding Adam at all.

He doesn't understand how they're so familiar with each other, because he looks around and they're all doing it, grabbing and touching and feeling in ways Kris would never let anyone handle him. Someone catches his shoulder and he jumps, about to snarl, but it's the woman from earlier and Adam's still with her, so Kris retreats to his side, achy and sulking.

Adam's talking to her about some organizational event or something but he hands Kris a drink so Kris figures he'll be charitable and at least let them finish their conversation before he demands they leave. He tunes out for a while, still staring around warily, until Adam's hand moves possessively across his back and he's asking, "Do you mind?"

Kris says, "Um," because he has no clue what he wants.

The woman says, "I'm pretty familiar with Adam's," sliding him a teasing look, and gestures to Kris' wings.

There've been too many hands on him already and Kris can feel shame thick and hot in his stomach from the touches and his discomfort with it all. Adam looks at him expectantly, smiling slightly, and Kris doesn't know how to say no. Her touch is worse than the others, starting at the edges and working her way inward; clinical like she's cataloguing every fault with this part of him that's so very wrong.

He stays still, very careful not to move at all, until she finally steps back and says, "They're identical, like you said. That's very strange."

Kris backs away, says, "Where's the bathroom?" and bolts.

Adam grabs him before he reaches the door. "What's going on?"

Kris says, "I can't do this," and, "I'm sorry." Also, "Please let me go," nudging his head towards the door.

"Kris," Adam says, and Kris can't stand to have disappointed him and he tries to explain, "I just – they're all just showing everything, and I can't, I'm not like that," and Adam says, "Kris," again, and someone touches his wing, _again_ , and Adam says, " _Kris_. It's about not hiding who you are," and Kris shakes his head frantically and Adam says, "You don't have to let them touch you."

"Oh," Kris says.

Adam smiles unhappily. "We don't have to stay."

"No," Kris mutters, "We can."

After looking at him consideringly for a moment, Adam drags Kris away from the door. Kris winces but doesn't protest; he feels bad enough already for freaking out. It's different, with Adam: people stay further away, maybe, or maybe he just doesn't notice them as much, or maybe he doesn't care. Kris thinks he has no reason to feel safer, but this time when the hands come they're familiar. Kris tries to ignore it, shuffles away when Adam gets more insistent and says reprovingly, "It's just me."

"And you _suck_ ," Kris informs him, not only because he's starting to unwind now and god forbid Adam notice he isn't terrified, because then he'll make him do something horrible, like socialize.

"That can be arranged," Adam says, "but first you need to meet – wait, he was here a minute ago."

"Adam!" Kris yelps, as he's towed around unceremoniously around the room. He's pretty sure they end up right where they started.

"Hey, Chris, this is Kris," Adam says, shoving Kris forward. Kris feels not unlike a child put on display for the approval of family and friends.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Kris says, because he can't not, and because the other Chris takes one look at him before turning to Adam and yelling about how he's an inconsiderate asshole, bringing someone so shy to a place like this.

Kris still feels a bit like a child, but it's slightly more enjoyable now.

"He's doing fine!" Adam protests. "See? Hasn't thrown up or anything."

Pretty sure he doesn't want to know, Kris says, "Do people do that a lot here?" because that's something he feels he should be concerned about, if so.

"No, but I was trying to make a point," Chris says. "You don't look like you're having fun."

"It's not so bad," Kris says grudgingly.

"Oh, right," the other Chris says, rolling his eyes and frowning at Adam when he opens his mouth to argue. "But that doesn't mean the people here aren't all uninhibited animals, especially with a little bit of liquor in them."

He says it very primly. Kris gets the distinct feeling the pun was deliberate, and that he's laughing at all of them, if not unkindly. So he asks, "What's your accent?"

Chris says, "Oh, nothing. I've made it up. I switch every couple of months for fun."

"Freak," Adam says, stretching his wings.

"Kris," Chris says, grabbing his arm, "Have my card. You should let me know if you ever need help getting Adam under control."

"Thanks?" Kris says.

"Actually," Chris says conspiratorially, leaning closer. He's very warm, and Kris wonders what his inhuman attribute is – he looks normal. "Call me if you need help with anyone else Adam has you run into, as well. There are several people here who I think need to be taken in hand."

"The hell?" Kris asks Adam as he walks away, still looking completely human.

"See, I knew you'd like him," Adam says, beaming.

"But really," Kris says.

"It's an act," Adam says, then looks over to the side quickly. "Oh, free couch!"

"But _really_ ," Kris insists.

"He's got a forked tongue," Adam explains, head turned almost completely sideways as he stares at something across the room, half-ignoring Kris still.

"So he's a lying little bastard?" Kris asks dryly.

"Duh," Adam says.

"Of course those stereotypes should all be treated as true, if only for fun," the woman from earlier says, dropping her head on Kris' shoulder. He doesn't quite flinch this time. "We should never be so enlightened that we can't make fun of ourselves – then we're taking everything too seriously, and isn't that what we're here to avoid?"

Kris blinks at her. Adam says, "She's trying to hint that we're being boring and should go do something."

"It wasn't even a hint. The mere thought might've just crossed my mind," she says innocently. "Though if you take that to mean you should dance or get yourselves some drinks I certainly wouldn't discourage it."

"What is she?" Kris grumbles as Adam drags him out to dance, a complete sucker for any suggestion that would make Kris look like a moron. "The manager?"

"Yeah," Adam says. "She started the place years ago. Why?"

Kris groans, dropping his forehead against Adam's shoulder. "I don't know why I even ask."

"You're not making any sense," Adam says, but Kris laughs and Adam leans down to kiss him, saying, "Christ, finally, only took you two  _hours_ to loosen up." Kris pinches his arm in retaliation, trying to keep them as detangled as possible. Adam is not cooperating.

"We should leave," Kris says, tripping up a set of stairs to a group of couches. He's afraid to look and see if they're occupied already. "You know," he laughs when Adam pokes his side to get him moving, "avoid the public sex and all the illegalities involved."

"This whole place is illegal," Adam informs him, "so they're not really sticklers for proper etiquette."

"I guess, but _really_?" His voice tries to crack at the end. And right, he thinks, as Adam goes back to molesting him in front of a room full of strangers, why not?

Adam smiles happily when Kris lets himself be kissed, too aware of the people around them – he just _knows_ they're watching. Except he looks around and they aren't, not really; except they could be.

"We are totally doing it here," Adam says hotly.

Kris tries to keep his wings small, tucked in close while Adam gets them into a corner and tugs his pants open just enough, but Adam's still got his hands all over them and his own spread over Kris, hiding everything but the parts Kris doesn't want seen. He can't hold them still, not with Adam watching him, waiting for him to show the worst of himself, and he comes with his face hidden and burning in the fold of Adam's feathers.

When Adam finally lets them leave, later, after Kris has sat through the rest of the night and knowing looks and well-intentioned teasing, he tells Kris, "The people here, we don't think any of it needs to be hidden."

And when they walk back through the caress of their bodies, Kris starts to think maybe they're right about all of this, and he looks at the fur and scales and feathers and skin, and he doesn't flinch when they touch.   



End file.
